He sealed the letter, addressing it to Cannes; called a waiter, late as it was, and desired him to post it.  And then he walked about the room, reflecting on the curse of his life—­his besetting sin—­irresolution.  It seemed almost an anomaly for him to make resolves; but he did make one then; that he would, with the help of Heaven, be a MAN from henceforth, however it might crucify his sensitive feelings.  And for the future, the obligation he had that day taken upon himself he determined to fulfil to his uttermost in all honour and love; to cherish his wife as he would have cherished Anne Ashton.  For the past—­but Lord Hartledon rose up now with a start.  There was one item of that past he dared not glance at, which did not, however, relate to Miss Ashton:  and it appeared inclined to thrust itself prominently forward to-night.

Could Lord Hartledon have borrowed somewhat of the easy indifference of the countess-dowager, he had been a happier man.  That lady would have made a female Nero, enjoying herself while Rome was burning.  She remained on in her snug quarters at Hartledon, and lived in clover.

One evening, rather more than a week after the marriage, Hedges had been on an errand to Calne, and was hastening home.  In the lonely part of the road near Hartledon, upon turning a sharp corner, he came upon Mirrable, who was standing talking to Pike, very much to the butler’s surprise.  Pike walked away at once; and the butler spoke.

“He is not an acquaintance of yours, that man, Mrs. Mirrable?”

“Indeed no,” she answered, tossing her head.  “It was like his impudence to stop me.  Rather flurried me too,” she continued:  and indeed Hedges noticed that she seemed flurried.

“What did he stop you for?  To beg?”

“Not that.  I’ve never heard that he does beg.  He accosted me with a cool question as to when his lordship was coming back to Hartledon.  I answered that it could not be any business of his.  And then you came up.”

“He is uncommon curious as to my lord.  I can’t make it out.  I’ve seen him prowling about the grounds:  and the night of the marriage he was mounted up at the chapel window.  Lord Hartledon saw him, too.  I should like to know what he wants.”

“By a half-word he let drop, I fancy he has a crotchet in his head that his lordship will find him some work when he comes home.  But I must go on my way,” added Mirrable.  “Mrs. Gum’s not well, and I sent word I’d look in for half-an-hour this evening.”

Hedges had to go on his way also, for it was close upon the countess-dowager’s dinner-hour, at which ceremony he must attend.  Putting his best foot forward, he walked at more than an ordinary pace, and overtook a gentleman almost at the very door of Hartledon.  The stranger was approaching the front entrance, Hedges was wheeling off to the back; but the former turned and spoke.  A tall, broad-shouldered, grey-haired man, with high cheek-bones.  Hedges took him for a clergyman from his attire; black, with a white neckcloth.